PART 3
Her expression changed.
“You had a twin sister.”
Hannah didn’t move.
“Her name was Rosie.”
Silence.
“She was born eleven minutes after you, and we only had a short time with both of you.”
Hannah stared at the wooden chest.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t yell.
She simply placed both hands on the lid.
Then David said quietly,
“I started this the night we lost her.”
And for the first time in eighteen years, I realized my husband had never truly erased Rosie from our family.
He had been remembering her all along.
